The Empty Portrait
by skipmunks
Summary: 4th installment of the Indecent Gryffindor stories It's Sally Poe's 6th year of Hogwarts, and everything is a mess. New potions teacher? Fred in a suit? Snape gone batty? As always, laughs, tears and explosions. Read and review! Rated M for safety
1. The Weasley's Wizard Wheezes

Holy Cricket.

I gazed up at the enormous mechanical Weasley that framed the front of the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Joke Shop.

I rolled my eyes. The top hat was a bit much.

Probably Fred's idea.

The windows were casting a pale yellow light onto the dark evening streets of Diagon Alley, much more warm and inviting than the rest of the storefronts, many of which were raided and boarded up.

I stepped up onto the stoop.

I hadn't set foot in this shop since that day with the moving boxes.

I hadn't seen the twins since that day in the 3rd floor lavatory.

Letters can only say so much, and I was a little anxious.

I looked down at my hand, which had been on the heavy brass doorknob for at least 3 minutes.

Should I knock?

...

I rolled my eyes at myself and threw open the door.

There was a multitude of things moving and glittering and popping on the shelves, I saw them all crawl around only in my peripheral vision. My focus went straight to the counter, where two tall, handsome redheaded men in suits slumped counting up their galleons.

Upon hearing the door, they looked up, and their faces seemed to split in half from the white grins that spread across them.

My heart was pounding.

Or was it my feet?

I couldn't tell, all I knew is that I must have been running, because the next thing I knew I was hanging a foot above the floor with one arm around George's neck and the other 4 limbs around Fred. There were no words being said, rather just crazy sounds; whoops and cries and laughs and howls like some crazy tribe in a victory dance.

Totally indecent. But so we are.

When finally my feet were back on the ground, I was pulled upwards again by Fred, who nearly suffocated me with an overzealous kiss. After which he held me back at arms length and looked me up and down, and grinned:

"Well look at you! You're all older! Your even uglier! I think I'll have to be sick all over you immediately. Lie down."

A shriek of giggles rang out of my belly and I jumped on him again, messing up his hair the best I could with it being so short.

"Oh well look at the pair of YOU." I rebutted, straightening George's brilliant maroon necktie, "Suits? I don't even know who you are anymore!"

"Swanky, I know. We'll just have to get used to living like royalty." George winked, nodding at the register which still had piles of gold galleons stacked next to it.

My eyes boggled a bit.

"Bloody hell! It's not even the school rush."

"I know." grinned Fred, straightening his tie in a mocking manner. "Some people are meant to be salesmen."

"And some people are meant to blow things up. Oh, by the way, your share is at Gringotts." George added nonchalantly.

I raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean my share? I don't run shops. I don't wear suits." I teased, tugging on Fred's tie and messing it up again.

"Are you batty? Ton Tongue Toffees. Portable Swamps. Skiving Snackboxes. You helped invent them." George explained, hopping back over the counter to continue locking up.

"And the Toe Biting Socks, Acid Quills and Headless Hats? You came up with those without our help." Fred patted the top of my head like I was a star pupil. "So yes, you get a share."

I rolled my eyes.

"And if I refuse?"

Fred interlaced his fingers in mine.

"You wont. Not after you see how much is in there." He winked, tugging me off to one of the corners of this magical place that was so full of Fred and George that I couldn't help but smile. It was like being inside our own little world. It was like being inside their imagination. There were things that made noise, things that spin, things that smell and things that put themselves back together so you can break them over and over again.

It was after midnight before I was through testing and poking and sampling almost everything that littered those busy walls.

The sofa in the twin's flat was not the same dirty one that I had inhabited just last year. It was much more squishy, much like the armchairs in the Gryffindor common room. I tucked my slippered feet up under me, and resumed stroking the orange Pygmy Puff that I had scooped up from the display downstairs.

"Cute aren't they?" asked George, handing me a spare blanket and pillow.

"Adorable! Don't let Sev out of the bathroom, though. He will eat it for sure."

George made a look of annoyance when I mentioned the cat, and fingered the claw and fang marks Severus had left along his forearm.

"Oh, so thats what it eats when it can't get human flesh."

"Ha." I responded bluntly.

There was a thud at the door as Fred burst through with my trunk.

"Bloody hell, Sally what've you got a body in here?"

"Girly things." I giggled, putting down the Pygmy Puff and accepting the trunk from Fred.

He put it down with a sigh of relief and collapsed on the sofa.

He could have used magic to levitate the trunk up the 3 flights of stairs, however he probably thought it would have impugned his masculinity.

Psh. What masculinity?

"Better get to bed. The shop is bound to be busy tomorrow. School starts in a matter of days." George said, scratching his head absentmindedly. "'Night." he said to me, tugging on one of my plaits playfully before retreating to his bedroom.

I giggled and pounced on the sofa beside Fred, who had wrapped himself up in my blanket like a shawl.

"You heard the man. Off to bed, you lazy arse." I teased.

"Shut up." Fred grinned, opening the blanket up and grabbing me inside it.

He stuck his nose in my hair and sighed.

I could feel the air tickle down my shoulder.

"I missed u so much." he whispered.

I shuffled around on his lap so that the sides of our heads bonked together.

I could feel him smiling as his cheeks brushed against mine.

"I missed you too, you crazy git."

His hand grazed my cheek as he turned my head, pressing our lips together like 2 sides of a zipper.

"You should get some sleep. Jill's flooing over pretty early." Fred grumbled, lifting his head and planting another cotton-soft kiss on my forehead.

"Yeah. You too. Since you're a working man now and everything."

He sat up and stretched, allowing the blankets to fall back down on me.

"Goodnight then, Sally." he said, patting my cheek playfully. "Sweet dreams, eh?"

Our eyes locked, and suddenly I something deep inside me lurched. It wasn't butterflies or nerves, it was something primal and instinctive from deep within my very being. It was reckless. It was pushy. It was vaguely naughty. I wanted to grab his arms and pull him back. I wanted to kiss him and touch him and be close. I wanted his hands with my hands, his lips on my lips, his skin on my skin.

My heart thundered in my chest.

I leaned forward; actually my body seemed to lean itself forward.

I stopped myself inches from his mouth, made a quick swerve upward and kissed his eyebrow.

That was close.

"S-sweet dreams." I whispered, still hearing my heartbeat in my ears.

He got up and smirked at me as he disappeared into his bedroom.

I threw myself back into the blankets, gulping air and trying to clear my head.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder.

But, really?

I picked up my Pygmy Puff and rubbed it against my face. It was soothing.

Finally my heartbeat went back to normal and I turned out the light, returning the miniature Puffskein back to it's little mesh basket.

Good grief.

------------------

".......Charming." said Jill, wrinkling her nose at the rubber chicken that I was now waving in front of her face. "False wands. How did we survive without them?"

I bopped her gently over the head with my fowl.

"They are jokes. They don't have to make sense."

Jill merely raised her eyebrows at me and picked up her mug of butterbeer.

It had been a successful shopping day for the two of us. Jill was very pleased with the books she had found in the discount bin at Flourish and Blotts, although was horrified to discover that her two other beloved book sellers (Whizzhard Books and Obscurus Books) had gone out of business. I treated myself to a new couldron since I had been accepted into the Advanced Potions Class this year, and I wanted to be very well prepared. I am also quite sure that I nearly bought out Slug & Jiggers Apothecary. I went in to refill my lionfish scales. I came out with enough ingredients to make Professor Snape envious.

However, I had not touched a cent of the money given to me by Fred and George. It was their shop, and their earnings. I was quite proud of my self control, especially after eyeing the new racing brooms in Quality Quidditch Supplies.

I picked up my butterbeer and downed it to the dregs, allowing a burp to emerge in the process.

When Jill looked up at me, I assumed she was going to reprimand me for my lack of manners. So when I saw the look of distress on her face, I was alarmed.

"Jill! What's the matter?"

She looked back down at her practically full mug, swirling a finger lazily around the foamy rim.

"I...I don't know. Draco.... He has been acting very strange." she said, quietly. "We barely even speak anymore, and when we do he is cold and.....Just different."

I let out a false chuckle.

"Strange and cold? Malfoy? Don't be rediculous."

"Sarah! Be serious please. I am worried.... Worried that he doesn't love me anymore."

The thought of Malfoy loving anything was a bit hard for me to believe. Although contrariwise, the thought of anyone not loving Jill was a bit hard for me to believe.

"What makes you say that?" I queried.

"He says not to ask him questions. He says he needs more space. But I think if I gave him any more space I would fall off the planet."

I grimaced.

I'm clearly not a love expert, but that sounded like bad news to me.

I waved my arm at Madame Rosmerta.

We were going to need a few more butterbeers.


	2. Doxies and Sopopherous Beans

The halls were empty, and the well weathered soles of my sneakers made a funny tamping sound as I ran that reverberated off the walls like rain. My stomach muscles were tight with excitement, which did not bode well due to all the pudding that I had eaten at the feast. As I flew around the corner to the staircase, I could feel it all slosh around in a vile way. I tried to slow to a walk, but the excitement egged my legs onward uncontrollably in some sort of weird trot. After narrowly dodging an icy shower from the Grey Lady, I finally reached my destination.

With out the slightest hint of hesitation, I threw the door open with a flourish.

"YOU GOT THE JOB!" I shreiked.

Snape looked up at me from among all of the half unpacked trunks that littered his new office in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

His left nostril flicked upward in disgust.

"Obviously."

I squealed in glee and hopped up in down, unable to control my excitement but far too smart to do something like embrace the greasy old bat.

I whipped out my wand (inadvertently sending a few oddments skittering into the wall) and skipped over to the clutter like I was his fairy godmother or something.

"Let me help unpack!" I demanded rather than offered, rapping the top of a trunk sharply with my wand.

Snape moved forward to protest, but not before the lid sprung open and a few dozen doxies fluttered out of it.

There are not many things in the world that I am afraid of.

However. Doxies are one of them.

"AHHHHH!" I yelped, swatting at one of the bluish bugs with the back of my sleeve, and covering my face with the other. "GET THEM OFF, PROFESSOR! GET THEM OFF!"

There was the sound of a chair being knocked over and something breakable cracking.

"Hold still, Poe for God's sake..." Snape hissed, dodging my flailing arm by mere centimeters.

"I CAN'T!" I screamed, flailing all the more as I felt one of the little buggers take a hefty bite into my upper ear.

One by one, Snape managed to zap all of them into paralysis with a spark that emitted from his wand with a sharp crack. When I finally uncovered my eyes, the surrounding area was littered with the little blue- black things like a dark snow.

I flattened down my hair nervously, as if expecting to feel a creepy crawly in there.

"HONESTLY, Snape?! Doxies? Really?!?" I snapped, rather trying to cover up my embarassment.

He shot me a look of hatred as he began sweeping up the little creepies into a jar.

I huffed and turned back to the trunk that the Doxies were inhabiting, and took out a small silver box. It was rather old looking, with a great amount of detail engraved around the latch.

It was rather feminine.

I snickered.

"Whats this eh, Snapey? Your jewelry box?"

When he saw what I was holding, his eyes flashed and he snatched it out of my hand.

"You have no business in there." he growled, hiding it in the folds of his black robes, "Haven't you caused enough trouble for one evening, Poe?"

I pushed my lower lip out guiltily.

"Sorry, Professor. You have a point." I admitted, turning around and stepping over a few more trunks and cases. "I just wanted to say congratulations on your new post." I added, pausing at the door.

"Oh, and, I hope you don't die. I heard the job's jinxed." I grinned.

Snape always looks pale.

But the way he stared at the floor as I left made me wonder if he was feeling ill.

I pondered to myself as I began the climb to the Gryffindor Tower, which was now about as dreary as the dungeons without Fred and George around.

Snape looked really horrid.

The summer had aged him; He was different. Sad. Tired.

The edges of his eyes were crinkled and worn, and there were shiny scars on his hand.

Poor Snapey Wapey.

My poor old friend.

----------------

Potions.

Subtle science. Exact art.

My passion. My truest love.

I glided down the steps of the common room, my gently used copy of Advanced Potion Making securely pressed against my heart.

Professor Slughorn. I heard he was a pushover for clever students.

I couldn't wait to dazzle him with my mixture. If I had won over (in the loosest sense of the term) the greasiest bastard ever to grace the teaching profession, wooing dear Slughorn should be easy as pudding.

Oh, lovely Slughorn.

I adjusted my grip on the handle of my new cauldron. The pewter was still new and unmarked, shining in the morning sun like a gem after the scrubbing I had given it the previous night.

I was delighted to break it in today.

Today.

My first day of Advanced Potions.

I nodded to Jill, who was waiting for me at the entrance to the dungeons. She still looked a bit gloomy due to the upheaval in her love life, but still seemed put together.

But not as put together as I, Sarah J. Poe, dedicated potion maker and apothecary extraordinaire.

I led the way down the stairs, and put on an award winning smile as I opened the doors to the classroom.

Potter.

Yep, my first glance of this magical amazing class is the bespectacled mug of Harry Potter.

My smile almost drooped, but I quickly averted my eyes to the front row where I took my seat, Jill at my heels.

"Good morning everyone!" said the round old gentleman in the funny looking hat, "My name is Professor Slughorn and I will be your new potions master."

I folded my hands in front of me on the table, smile intact and ears alert.

"There is more to be expected of you in this advanced class. But that should not be a problem, I can already tell some of you are very bright, yes. Very bright!" Slughorn's eyes rested in Potter's direction.

Yes. I am bright.

Potter, not so much.

I sat up a bit straighter in my chair.

Slughorn meandered like an old mechanical toy around his desk.

"Let's see how far along you are. Does everyone have a textbook?"

I ran my finger along the spine of my textbook. A subtle movement that clearly said 'Yes, professor. I came prepared. Because potions is my thing.'

"We weren't expecting to take this class, professor. We haven't been able to buy the books yet." explained Potter in a rather hushed tone.

Ronniekins just stood there and turned red- a typically Weasley defense mechanism.

I raised an eyebrow in annoyance (Snape taught me how to do that), and turned my attention back to the professor.

Slughorn just waved a hand in their direction and beckoned them to take an old book from the back shelf.

I let out a short huff of annoyance out of my nose.

This was not a pansy party.

This was _Advanced Potions_.

Slughorn straightened up from behind his desk and revealed in his clutches a small via, no bigger than a locket. It was filled with a shimmering, golden liquid.

I knew intensely and immediately that I wanted it.

"Would anyone care to identify this potion?" Slughorn tooted. (his voice was reminiscent of an old trombone, wheezing and occasionally emitting a pitchy tone.)

My hand shot up like a rocket.

I had my mouth open, ready to answer ( which was, of course, Felix Felicis) when the old codger called upon that twit Hermione Granger.

"Felix Felicis, professor. It is said to bring good fortune to the drinker, earning it the nickname 'liquid luck'."

I turned around stealthily and shot daggers with my eyes at her bushy head.

I could have kicked myself.

This is Hermione we're talking about.

We live in the same dormitory.

Get a grip.

I turned back around, ashamed at myself.

Jeeze, academic superiority is a dangerous sport. No wonder people are afraid of Jill. She does this in every class.

"Correct, Ms. Granger! 5 points for Gryffindor. Now, Felix Felicis is a very difficult potion to make. Disastrous to get wrong. Much too advanced for 6th year students. However, this vial will be a prize to whomever can make the best example of Draught of Living Death." He wheezed.

My heart pumped.

Ha Ha! At last. My shot at glory.

"Open your books to page 33, and you may begin."

I was way ahead of him, already running my finger down the list of ingredients.

Yes, yes....

Wormwood.

Asphodel.

Valerian roots.

Sloth brain.

A Sopophorus bean....

As I began to pestle the wormwood, Jill let out a tremendous sigh.

So tremendous that I knew I had to ask what was bothering her.

Though, in hindsight I wish I hadn't, and concentrated whole-heartedly on my draught...

But what can I say? I'm a giver.

"What's got your wand in a knot?" I demanded, slowly and precisely peppering my powdered wormwood into my cauldron.

"It's nothing..." she said warily, letting out another bone-rattling sigh and dumping her poorly ground wormwood into her cauldron, spilling a little.

I gave her The Eyebrow as I began to milk the sloth brain.

"Oh.... I don't know exactly, it's just that.... I think Draco might be.... Seeing someone else."

I didn't spill a drop as I gasped an astonished, "You're joking!"

She shook her head sadly and began poking at her sad wad of sloth brain with the end of her scalpel.

"Well, I did find it odd that he didn't walk with you after the feast... I mean, you didn't have any classes left. Just going to chat with Dumbledore I presume?" I asked, stirring my draught just so.

Jill stabbed jerkily into the sloth brain and let out an odd giggle.

"No, no. Draco knows better than to make me choose between him and Dumbledore." she said, the ghost of a grin tickling the sides of her mouth, "He knows he'd lose."

I grinned and picked up my satchel of asphodel.

I'm pretty sure I was the only person in the world whose company she enjoyed more than Dumbledore's.

And I'm only pretty sure, not certain.

"Speaking of the old bat, what happened to his hand? I did notice it was all bandaged up." I asked, though most of my attention was on the asphodel as I cut down the middle and squeezed out the thick paste.

Jill suddenly looked very serious.

"I am not sure. I tried to get a good look at it but he kept swatting me away when I tried to take a peek. I think it must be some kind of skin thing, he had a salve on his desk."

I couldn't respond, I was carefully dicing up the remaining asphodel into millimeters.

"But really, this Draco thing. There wasn't any funny letters or lipstick on the collar. He is just so moody with me lately. Brooding ALL THE TIME." She grumped, chopping her asphodel into uneven chunks and plopping them into the potion.

"Actually, that sounds exactly like Malfoy, the bastard..." I muttered.

Jill shot me a look that clearly said ' i would kick you right now if you weren't holding a knife'.

"I'm being serious, Sarah."

"I know. Sorry." I said, putting the lid on my cauldron to simmer while I dug around in my stores for the Sopophorous bean.

"Oi!" I exclaimed, pulling the jar out of my box with enthusiasm, "I can help you. Back at the shop we've got loads of things for invading people's privacy. Extendable ears, electrical leashes, love potions..."

Jill laughed a little but shook her head.

"Thank you but I'd rather keep my conscience clean. I'll keep it in mind, though."

I grinned.

"And then if we catch him in the act, we've got all sorts of nasty things to avenge you. The Dysentery Delights were far too awful for the Skiving Snackboxes, but we do have a few left..."

A shriveled bean hit me in the back of the head.

"Ouch!"

"Oh! Sorry, Sarah... It's tricky..." Ron mumbled from the table behind me.

I smirked at him and turned back to my station, avoiding another flying bean from the adjacent table.

I, of course, cut up my bean delightfully, and grinned to myself as I plopped the pieces into my concoction.

"How did you do that?" asked Jill, who was on her fourth bean.

I almost didn't tell her. Ya know, that savage urge for academic superiority.

But I passed her my knife and whispered,

"Brass knife, not silver. Cuts through it like butter."

Jill accepted the utensil and chopped her bean.

Like I said earlier. I'm a giver.

Forty five minutes later, Slughorn was walking about the room, inspecting everyone's potions.

He said Ron's was atrocious.

Hermione's was adequate.

Gretchen's was acceptable.

Morty's was fair.

On and on he went, peeping into the cauldron's.

My breath froze as he got to our table.

He stopped at Jill's first.

"Ahh, yes Miss Thimbleword. I have heard marvelous things about you. And it seems as though they are true, excellent potion."

Jill smiled and pushed a piece of hair behind her ear.

Yes, her potion was excellent. I'd helped.

I opened the lid on my cauldron, beckoning him to my glorious draught.

Slughorn peered into my flawless potion.

For a moment, he looked mystified by it's loveliness.

He took out a leaf, and dropped it in the pot.

It promptly shriveled and died, floating at the top like an ashy little raft.

He looked up at me.

I smiled, awaiting my praise.

"Yes. Good." he said, straightening up and moving onto the next table.

My jaw dropped.

Yes?

Good?

Is that even a complete sentence?

I watched in horror as Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, accepted the vial of Felix Felicis that was supposed to belong to Sarah Poe, the Girl Who Brewed.

My lower lip trembled a bit, but I quickly bit it.

Must be that savage academic superiority thing again.

Merlin's beard.


	3. Love's Keen Sting

_The dungeons were toasty and warm, and the same candles that lit the great hall had found there way down to the potions classroom._

_Snape was waiting for me at the door. He wore a wide grin, and he was wearing his favorite sequined bow tie. He greeted me with a wink, and extended his hand to me as I entered. As I shook it, we snapped our fingers and linked pinkies in a most elaborate and zealous secret handshake. _

_"You're just in time! I've been crowned Supreme King of Potions. My first order of business is to promote you to president of the Slug Club." Snape beamed, closing the door behind us and motioning me towards an enormous armchair. "Take a seat while Potter serves you Chocolate Frogs."_

_Potter stepped out of the shadows, dressed in Quidditch robes and clutching a snitch in the shape of a Chocolate Frog. _

_He did that weird thing where his eyes don't blink at the same time, and I skipped over to the gold plated ladder. _

_"The festivities must wait. It's inventory day." I proclaimed, gliding nimbly up the ladder. _

_Snape didn't acknowledge me, he was Jill now and had begun waltzing with my cat._

_I heaved the door to the cupboard open, and all of the ingredients began to twinkle. It was a bit of a mess, as the vial of toothbrush bristles was next to the lacewing flies, but as I put my wand between my teeth it tasted just like treacle._

I awoke with a start when a form flopped onto the foot of my bed.

"Put him down, he sheds!" I breathed, sitting up straight, fingers clutching my bedspread.

There was a moment of disorientation as my mind processed my dormitory, the cold morning light, and Jillian Thimbleword sobbing into my quilt.

"Jill!" I gasped, blinking thickly through the sleep in my eyes, "You are in my room. On my bed. Why are you on my bed?"

She continued sobbing, occasionally pausing to draw in a long, slurping breath.

I looked around the dormitory quickly, expecting to see a few nasty glances from my mates, but the beds were all empty except for Lulu Satchelbucket, who was flipping through a Teen Witch magazine and not paying us much attention.

I crawled over to my best friend and patted her heaving shoulder.

"There, there." I said with sympathy, "Did the library close early again?"

Jill wiped her face across my quilt, leaving a moist trail, and rolled over so that she could take another wet sniffle.

"H-he....He....We..." she stammered through her tears, very nearly driving herself to hysterics.

I leaned over to grab my wand off my night table, and conjured her a (rather large) handkerchief.

She accepted it with a wimper, but wiped her nose on the back of her hand anyway.

"It's....Ohhhhh." she moaned, her face crumpling to tears once more, "Draco!"

Oh that little fuck.

"WHERE IS THE LITTLE FERRET?!" I snapped, a few red sparks errupting out of the wand that I was clutching hard enough to cause bruising.

Jill just shook her head beneath the rag, stammering out, "Hedoesn'twanttoseemeanymore!"

"Wait, what?" I asked, unable to process the sentence that fast.

Jill took a deep breath in an attempt to quell the sobs. It worked for the moment, her chest rattling like a bogart in a drawer. She blew her nose with a loud toot and propped herself up on the bedpost.

"I just don't understand!" she huffed, "He said that I was being pushy and nosey, and that I had trust issues."

There was a pause as she threw the balled up kerchief onto my floor angrily.

"I DO NOT HAVE TRUST ISSUES!" she barked, a wild mania glinting in her eyes, "DID I EVER ASK HIM WHAT HE WAS DOING ON ALL OF THOSE NIGHTS I WAS LEFT WAITING FOR HIM IN THE GREAT HALL? DID I EVER SNIFF HIS ROBES FOR PERFUME? DID I EVER EMPLOY VERITASERUM?!"

I crossed my arms and nodded savagely, encouraging her to continue, which she did.

"SO I PESTERED HIM ABOUT HIS HOMEWORK EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE. HE IS ALMOST FAILING, WHAT ELSE WAS I TO DO? I TOLD HIM HE SHOULD GET MORE SLEEP, YOU'VE SEEN HIS EYES THE RINGS ARE ENORMOUS! I BET I KNOW WHY HE HASN'T BEEN SLEEPING. I bet I know why he hasn't been sleeping..." she repeated, her lower lip beginning to tremble and tears once again welling up in her big blue eyes.

I made a gagging noise and closed my eyes violently.

Images. Images. Images.

"Don't be daft. I highly doubt this is a matter of infidelity. Trust me, no one on the planet besides you wants a bit of that." I patted her leg consolingly, "You can do so much better."

Jill sighed.

"I can do better." she said blandly, as if reciting it would convince herself to believe it.

"And you still have me!" I squealed, putting an arm around her shoulders, "And Dumbledore, of course."

Jill's eyes brightened a bit.

"Yes." she repeated, sniffling up the last of her tears, "I still have Dumbledore."

"Yeah! No need to run around getting your wand in a knot. Let him be the one who gets flustered." I said, stretching, "What time is it, anyway?"

"It's nearly nine. Unless you can get ready in ten minutes, I'm afraid we will be walking to Hogsmeade." Jill responded.

"Ten minutes? Kid stuff." I said as I leapt out of my bed and began rummaging through my trunk for some clean slacks.

* * *

"Three more butterbeers please, Rosemerta." George called, leaning back in his chair.

Perfect timing as usual, as I tapped the bottom of my mug to get the last few foamy drops. It had only a few seconds to retell the story of Jill's upheaval, but an entire butterbeer to relay all the details of what I was going to do to that wanker Malfoy next time I saw him.

"Alright, so I understand the emotional satisfactions of punching him repeatedly in the solar plexus, but I think that a nice hex would be much more amusing and time effective." Fred shared, shrugging his shoulders, "What can I say? I'm old fashioned."

I shook my head sadly.

"Jill made me promise not to use magic. I am forced to resort to fisticuffs." I shrugged in return, "What can I say? I'm barbaric."

"Eh tell her not to get her knickers in a twist. She's not the only victim to love's keen sting." George added, accepting his fresh mug from Rosemerta's tray, "Sort of an epidemic, actually."

I grabbed mine as well, shooting, "Explain." at George before diving into the warm, buttery foam that was spilling onto my knuckles.

"Well, Ginny's been bickering with Dean Thomas just about every time I hear from her. Really stressing her out, actually. Mum's always on her about not putting her social life in front of her grades. Her Charms score was getting a bit dodgy."

"I heard she's doing pretty well in Potions, though. She's in some club for it or something." Fred added, causing me to cough into my mug.

"It's not a REAL club. It's a popularity contest!" I spat, before sitting back in the booth and muttering something about madness and grinding my molars.

There was a moment of silence as Fred tried to change the subject, seeing as it was rather sore.

"Ron's having a bit of a row with Granger, too I heard." he coughed, "Probably over that twit Lavender Brown."

"You'd think he wrote a book or something. The kid finally gets a bit of skirt, starts thinking he's Viktor Krum." George added, rolling his eyes.

I rolled my eyes as well. This relationship nonsense was a load of bollocks. There were so many more pressing matters at hand. You- Know- Who, for example. The fact that we were on the brink of war. Diagon Alley in a shambles. My not being in the Slug Club. The list goes on and on, people need to suss out their priorities.

My inner monologue verbalized itself as a muttered "Bloody hell..." as I leaned my elbows back onto the table. "How's the shop? Are you still having me for the holiday?"

"Ehh, we are still debating between you and the ghoul in Mum's attic. You smell nicer, but I think the ghoul might have you beat in conversation." Fred grinned.

"I didn't know Percy moved into the attic." I shot back.

George snorted into his mug.

"I guess you can stay. Provided that you bang on the pipes every once in a while." Fred retorted, giving my plait a tug.

"Deal. I might even grunt!" I boasted.

"Here, here!" said George, clinking his mug to mine.


	4. The Snape Club

authors note: sorry for the delays! Its been such a busy semester! I planned on having this chapter up by Christmas but alas, i got the flu. But fear not, since I am living in seclusion for the remainder of break, prepare for me to redeem myself! xoxoxo

Alas, the mugs were emptied, the sun was setting, and Fred and George had to be getting back to the shop. And so we stumbled into the cold, warmed from the inside from the butterbeer (and a wee bit of mulled mead.) I bid them adieu until Christmas, and with the loudest of cracks they were gone. I hiccupped.

Shoving my hands deep into the pocket of my jacket, I began weaving my way back up to Hogwarts castle.

"Psssst!" hissed a voice from my left.

I whirled in the direction of the disturbance, hiccupping again and nearly losing my balance.

"Jill my dear, is that you?" I squinted, "Why on earth are you dressed like that?"

"Shhh!" she hushed abruptly, yanking my arm close enough to whisper. She was wearing a heavy grey cloak, a scarf that covered up to her nose, and a pair of oversized sunglasses. She looked rather like professor Trelawney, if the professor was an Inuit. "I have to buy something in secret. You need to come with me, I don't know what I'm doing."

She halted, leaned a bit closer, and sniffed.

"Have you been drinking?" she asked, astonished.

"I decided today that I rather like mead. It's very meady. Meadyyyyy." I giggled. "I think you needy some meady."

Jill smirked but shook her head.

"Later, come on!"

And off we walked. I must admit that even in my meady state, a prickling sense of naughtiness filled me. If Jill was purchasing something in disguise, it must be something awful.

It might even be in Knockturn Alley.

... Should I be disguised as well?

I pulled my scarlet and gold scarf higher over my head. I hiccupped into it and giggling ensued.

"For Merlin's sake, pull yourself together. It's in here." Jill whispered.

My mouth fell open, and I drooled on my scarf. To my astonishment, we were not in Knockturn Alley at all. We had stopped in front of Zonko's joke shop.

"Were going in there?" I asked, fidgeting a bit. It didn't feel right buying from a different joke shop. I felt as if a disguise was even more imperative.

"Yes. Come on, please!" hissed Jill as she heaved open the door.

I sighed, and entered the shop.

It was the same as it always had been, Zonkos. I guess even in the darkest times, everyone could always use a laugh.

Jill did not remove her hood or sunglasses, but pulled her scarf down so she could breathe.

"We need... To find...Oh... " Jill's voice trailed off as she slid past me and into the aisles of goodies.

In my stupor I found that I was much more entertained by the nose biting teacups.

After sustaining a hefty bite that penetrated the numbness of my meady nose, I went in search of Jill.

She was not near the sugar quills or the dung bombs or the fanged frisbees.

She had to be around there somewhere. Right?

She came in there with me, right?

Right?

I whirled around and heaved a sigh of relief when I saw the black hooded mass that was Jill.

"There you are, you ickle creepy- creep!" I giggled.

Jill raised an eyebrow at me, and then exposed what she was holding under her arm:

One vial of WonderWitch brand love potion, and one satchel of Cupid Crystals.

For the second time in one evening, my jaw dropped open of it's own accord.

(Note to self: no more mead.)

"Jillian. Diamond. Thimbleword." I grunted, my voice so low that it sounded rather menacing. Jill froze, and I could tell that she was immensely embarassed. I think she was under the impression that I was scrutinizing her for sinking too low. So I continued, "I am insulted. You are mocking me. Please tell me you are not going to buy THAT rubbish!" I took the vials from her hands and shoved them on a random shelf.

"No, no, no Jillian, you will NOT sink that low. Not if I have anything to do with it."

Jill hung her head, until it was obscured by her overlarge hood.

"No. We are doing this from scratch!" I proclaimed, waving my finger in the air.

Jill's neck snapped upwards and a grin that was a mile- wide appeared on her face.

"Come along, we have mischief to make. I am fresh out of powdered moonstone." I said, as I turned to storm out of Zonko's. Jill followed in close persuit, her cloak billowing wildly behind her.

The Ashwinder eggs were thawing.

Jill was carefully plucking the thorns off of the roses we'd scooped up from the greenhouse.

I was sipping my coffee delicately, and trying to ignore the pounding headache that was brutalizing my brain.

And there, amid the cobbwebbery and dust of the closet in the dungeons, my magnificent specimen of Amortentia was bubbling away contentedly. Not quite finished, but the steam had already begun to emit itself in curling spirals.

"We could get in a lot of trouble, you know." Jill muttered, either to herself or me.

Hoping for the latter, I replied: "Relax. The only person who ever used this closet was Snape, and he hasn't used it in about a hundred years."

Jill looked around at the undisturbed filth and, satisfied, went back to plucking the thorns.

"Just a few more minutes and we can add the eggs. Oh, and where's that peppermint?"

I ceased stirring the cauldron and pawed through my stores.

"Aha!" I exclaimed, pulling out a red and white striped dandy of a peppermint. Similar to the kind seen on restaurant counters and coffee tables.

"You're joking."

I winked at her and plopped it into the cauldron.

"Peppermint is peppermint." As I spoke, the mixture began to lighten into a lovely lavender color.

Jill shrugged, indicating that I was the boss, and swept up her pile of thorns.

"Shall I add these?" she asked.

"Yes, two at a time, be sure!" I said, flicking my wand and causing the potion to be stirred in a counter clockwise motion.

Jill did as I instructed and then added the Ashwinder eggs. Immediately the lavender mixture began to swirl and shimmer into the most perfect shade of opal.

I smiled and leaned over to take a nice big whiff.

"Ahhhh." I breathed, overcome with pleasure. Amortentia smells differently to each person, depending on what attracts them. The sweet aroma of my parent's lilac bush gave way to the tangy smell of a midsummer peach. With one final whiff I detected the very particular smell of Fred. A bit of soap, the smoke of a lit fuse, and a little hint of something else unnameable. The smell of his very skin, perhaps.

Jill smirked herself, a dreamy look coming over her face.

"I smell christmas trees." She sighed, twirling a piece of her glassy hair, "And Dumbledore... And...Oh, what is that?" Jill breathed deeper, "Its like earth. But so much more..." She leaned so close her nose almost touched the potion, "Is that a hint of dragon leather gloves?"

I waved her away from the cauldron, lest she attempt to taste it or something, and popped the cork off of a flask I had fished out of my stores.

With a flick of the wrist, my wand conducted a silvery stream of the potion neatly into the flask, where it pooled like a liquid dream.

"Now, just add a few drops of this into anything Malfoy might ingest. Pumpkin juice, bicuits, ferret pellets..." I paused to pop the cork back into the phial. As I held it up and watched it glimmer, I was so proud that a vein of anger seemed to swell in my temple.

"WHY AM I NOT IN THE SLUG CLUB?" I shrieked, dropping the phial and burying my face in my hands.

Jill managed to catch the flask, and immediately hid it in her pocket, to avoid a disaster.

"There, there." She said, patting my shoulder, "What do you want to be in the Slug Club for anyway? It's just a load of bum kissing. He's throwing some dumb Christmas party, as if we don't have anything better to do with our lives than listen to that old fool try to worm his way into the spotlight..."

My eyes grew wide.

"WHAT? CHRISTMAS PARTY?"

I clenched my fists. This was the last straw.

I wouldn't stand for this snubbing any longer. I would take matters into my own cauldron.

And there, in the dingy old closet, a new club was born:

The Snape Club.


	5. Drowning

It had not occurred to me in all my years here at Hogwarts that potions, as it were, was a rather unpopular subject. Personally, it was my absolute favorite. Mostly because I happen to love ingredients; even at a young age I would sneak into my mum's cupboard and mix up some vile concotions of mustard powder and rainbow sprinkles. But oh, muggle ingredients do not compare to the loveliness of those found at Hogwarts. Imagine, if you will, beetle eyes in a small glass jar. Oh, the ballads I could write for such a beautiful thing! The black specks are so shiny and so small, like frozen drops of ink. And the sound that they make when the jar is turned, it descends upon your ears like a light spring rain, thousands of little eyes plinking off each other like the finest hail.

I could go on. But I will spare you.

My point is that potionmaking is a lovely branch of magic, that often goes unappreciated. Many of my fellow students detested the subject, if not entirely because it had been presented to them over the years by my crotchety old friend, Professor Snape. Snape himself, funnily enough, didn't really have a passion for potions either. He just had a knack for it. No, his true passion was in the dark arts, and how to defend them. In fact, he was so thrilled with his new position that he barely had time to socialize.

But it was Christmas, the night of the Slug Club party, and I knew that a break from his work was probably in his best interest. And so that is why I was there that evening, bottle of mead in one arm and the other knocking eagerly at the door to Professor Snape's office.

We were going to have our own party, more grand than the Slug Club's. For the Snape Club does not care about fame. The Snape Club does not care about your connections, or who your father is, or how many tickets you can get to the Holyhead Harpies. No, the Snape Club was about potions. The beautiful art of intoxicants.

I pounded again at the door, a little more loudly this time.

"Snapey! Are you in? It's urgent."

Silence.

I sighed heavily. It was time to admit my defeat. He wasn't in.

I kicked the heavy door in frustration and, having stubbed my toe, yelled an obscenity, which echoed in a cat-like yowl down the dank corridor of the dungeons.

I looked at my watch. 8 o'clock. The Christmas party for the slug club was well under way by now, and I'm sure Jill was enjoying hors d'eurves with Ginny and Hermione, maybe even dancing with someone.

Lulu went home for the holiday, as did the rest of my dormitory mates. Fred and George were off being old businessmen. The cat was on a hunting trip, and Snape was apparently galavanting.

I leaned against the slimy wall and let gravity slide me down to the floor.

I could always hang out with Peeves.

No, no. What was I thinking?

I looked at the bottle I was carrying and forlornly tugged at the cork. Of course, since I have the upper body strength of a pumpkin pasty, it did not budge.

I sighed, and pulled my wand out of my pocket.

"I am useless without you." I cooed to it as the cork was sent flying down the corridor. "Utterly useless." I took a nice gulp. It tingled, and I felt a bit better. With a friend like mead, who needs everyone else?

After a few more gulps, I came to the conclusion that Snape had no friends besides me and therefore he would come back soon having decided galavanting was not his calling. Naturally, I would wait for him, like a good friend.

I think part of the reason why I like Snape so much is because I can read him like a book. He tries to be all mysterious and quiet so that nobody will ask him questions. I know this is the case because I ask him questions all the time, and he may actually hate me for it.

I snorted to myself, and began reenacting one of our encounters out loud:

"Snape, is today thursday or wednesday?"

In a my overly deep, mock- Snape voice, I replied to myself:

"Twitch, twitch...Poe, get a pocket watch...Lurk, lurk!"

I burst into giggles at my cleverness.

"Pocket watches don't even tell you what day it is!" I squealed.

And it wasn't just questions with Snape. He presented himself in a pretty atrocious way as well, just so people would not even think to ask him questions if they had them. I mean, what with the black, and the greasy hair, and the pastiness- practically glows in the dark!- It doesn't exactly scream teacher of the year or anything. However, everything that you see at face value of that man is deliberate. He does not want to be prodded, or spoken to, or touched, or loved, or feared. The facade is like his fortress. I knew how he felt. Sometimes I felt as though humour might be my fortress.

Or mead. Mead might very well be my fortress.

I turned to grab the bottle when my ears pricked up. Somewhere in the distance, I heard footsteps, and boy oh boy they sure did sound like Snape!

I scrambled to my feet, hastily picked up the bottle, and leaned with one arm on the dungeon door.

The echoes neared, and as the outline of human came slowly into shape, I was thrilled to see that I was correct. Snape was indeed approaching. He looked rather anxious, wringing his hands and staring at the floor. In fact, if I had not hiccoughed, I'm not sure he would have not bumped into me.

The look that crossed his face was agonizing. Unfortunately for him, there is nothing that makes me more prone to pester people than the thought that I might be unwanted.

He must've read that thought because as I opened my mouth to say hello he held up one hand to silence me, and opened the door, defeated.

"Don't mind if I do!" I chirped.

He ignored me.

I skipped right inside, and plopped the bottle on his desk. Snape raised a questioning eyebrow, as if he was threatening to call Filch down to collect me.

I didn't notice, I was rummaging around in the cupboards for a few spare flasks. Every good ex-potion master always kept a few spare flasks. And Snape was a very good ex-potions master. He had plenty.

"I'm sorry I didn't have time to decorate your desk this year." I began, as I filled a flask with mead and handed it to him. A few drops spilled over and onto what looked like important parchment. "Whoops. Spoke too soon!"

I expected Snape to at least struggle with a suppressed chuckle, but got nothing. He did, however, take a nice long gulp of mead, which was minutely encouraging.

"You've been awfully busy this semester. It's been terribly lonely, but at least you are really jumping into this new post with both feet!" I grinned, stomping my feet on the ground for emphasis. "Have you been to Slughorn's Christmas party? I have heard it's lovely. But our celebration will not be outdone!" I let a few feeble sparks fly out of my wand with a flourish. "The Snape Club reigns!"

Snape poured himself another glass, to my delight.

"I have just returned from Slughorn's..." he struggled for the right word for a few moments. Having not found any to fit his liking, he took another swig of mead before continuing: "It was rather unremarkable. Something from the buffet smelled quite despicable."

A deep part of my over-emotional heart twinged with a pang of jealousy. Not only that Snape had been to the Slug Club but that the Slug Club had gotten Snape, even if only for a few moments. Also, I should have brought more refreshments.

Thoughtfully, Snape reached into one of his drawers and pulled out a rather dusty- looking carton of biscuits.

"Delightful!" I giggled, brandishing a few more sparks from my wand and taking another swig of mead.

"The Snape Club reigns." mumbled Snape, almost inaudibly. I shot him a look as quick as a bullet.

"Snape, did you just...joke?"

"I'll entertain any ideas, Poe." he said, waving his hand before his face disappeared behind his mead. His smile stayed completely hidden, but I could see his eyes sparkling with good humour. It was quite a sight.

Eventually, the bottle began to dwindle, and the majority of the biscuits were either eaten or broken beneath the window, as I had declared to my professor that the damned things were so rock like that they would most definitely chip the glass. He then decided that this theory ought to be tested, and began throwing them. He laughed then, and I think it is worth noting that this is the first night I had ever heard it.

But evening was upon us. I would be in trouble if caught out of bed. Snape's head was beginning to loll on his shoulders. It was time for me to leave.

I waved my wand over the mess beside the window, encouraging it all into the waste bin. Another flick and the eery wall lamps dimmed, leaving just the fire snapping and whispering in the grate.

I noticed a rather sad-looking quilt sticking out of a drawer, and threw it over Snape's knees. He looked rather like an old man on his porch, dozing in his senility with a pained expression on his face.

"I'm so... sorry." he whispered, covering his eyes with his hand.

"Oh, there's nothing to apologize for, sir. I always have a damned decent time talking with you."

There was silence from Snape, aside from some sad- sounding sighs.

I do believe he was crying.

Talk about a whirlwind of emotions.

"You're very clever, Lilly." He mumbled wetly: "Very clever. Looking for an answer... Looking to solve a problem which has no solution."

I was very puzzled. As a matter of fact, I was very uncomfortable. I had no idea how to react, I had never seen Snape in this light. I wasn't even sure he was talking to me.

I patted his shoulder.

Of course he wasn't talking to me, he was talking to Lilly. Whoever that was.

When I touched his shoulder, he began to cry outright, almost sobbing.

It shocked me so much that I stumbled backwards a few steps.

"I- I'm sorry professor. Goodnight." I mumbled, before walking quickly out of the door and shutting it tightly behind me.

I leaned against the hard wood, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

After all these years, I had never seen Snape in such a sad way. I felt as though I had been reading him wrong the entire time. The poor man was suffering. Something burdened him.

This powerful wizard. This genius man.

All this time he had been shaking the world off, keeping them at bay like a venomous Tentacula twisting it's vines. It was easy for him, to shut us all out. And yet when it came time to let his inner world manifest- he was hopeless. He was drowning.

It seemed almost impossible. He was something of a hero to me. The Head of Slytherin house. The Potions Master. This great Occlumens, unable to prevent a 16 year old mudblood from peering into his secrets.

It frightened me.


	6. Jill, the Fool

Christmas time appeared suddenly before us, as if it had apparated out of thin air. I felt as though I was a withered old leaf that was suddenly filled with life! I flitted around like Pigwidgeon: presents with my parents, tea and cakes with the Weasleys, Hot toddies and mischief making at the joke shop. It had been, after all, a few years since a Christmas outside of the cozy stone confinements of Hogwarts, and I was determined to be steeped in it like a cup of tea.

But this is not about me.

This is about Jill.

At least, for now.

...

I am not a witch of words. I am a witch of wit, and I will not be made a fool.

I will not be made a fool.

I will not.

I stared down at the parchment lying neatly on my desk. It had looked so clean and new at first glance, so inviting. Not anymore. It is rather stark and intimidating. If there is one thing I am sure of, it is that I will never be intimidated by a sheet of parchment.

I guess I am not so sure of anything anymore.

I returned once more to the photograph of Draco, smirking and brooding from atop my pile of books. My heart lurched sharply. I flipped it over.

I must get him back.

I will not be made a fool.

I will not.

I picked up the quill yet again. I would write what I felt. I would write about love.

I began: _"Dear Draco, I've never felt so complete as when I am with you. It's not something that I really noticed until now. I wish for us to be happy again. I love you, and there is nothing I would rather do than continue to do so. Love always, Jillian."_

I stared at the rest of the page, still so empty. I scratched a final note:

_"Please."_

I let a sigh escape my lungs. I shouldn't have, because the force of it brought a tear to my eye, and the words went out of focus. How could I proofread if I couldn't see the words?

I'm pathetic.

I took a deep breath inwards, and folded the parchment neatly.

"No, I am in love. And I will not be made a fool." I spoke to the empty dormatory, "I will not."

I wrapped my blue scarf around my neck, and set off to the owlery.

He would come back.

...

The hurt that I felt in my heart seemed to be churned hotly into my blood. I was furious.

After a week of no mail, I supposed Draco must have been wrapped up in holiday happenings. This morning, however- this dreary, pathetic morning- the owl messenger came back with an empty beak.

He has made a fool of me.

I stormed up the steps of Ravenclaw tower, as I could not taint the library with a memory as vile as this revolting morning. This rotten, filthy morning.

My fingers wrapped themselves around my wand of their own doing. It felt soothing and cold upon my palm. It did not pacify me, but it made me feel a bit more powerful as I pointed it at the door to my room, which burst open so fast that it nearly flew off of the hinges.

I threw my cloak to the floor, and kicked open the latch to my trunk. Pointing my wand into it, I summoned up the red paper from its depths. It hovered over to the desk, where my quill already stood poised to begin.

"You!" I began, feeling my jaw tighten and my teeth clench, "Draco Malfoy, you are the most heartless, proud, and PATHETIC WIZARD I HAVE EVER BEEN CURSED ENOUGH TO MEET. YOU ARE A COWARD, SO LOW AND SO VILE, THAT YOU CANNOT EVEN GIVE ME THE COURTESY OF A RESPONSE. NOT EVEN A DAMNED COURTESY!" I kicked the trunk again out of my frusteration. The quill was whizzing about on the paper so fast, I could almost imagine tendrils of smoke curling up from the friction.

"I HAVE DEFENDED YOU. I HAVE HELPED YOU. AND YOU HAVE MADE A FOOL OF ME...You have made a fool of me..." I was sobbing now, and it only fueled my rage.

"I hope you are satisfied. I hope when these words ring through the lonesome corridors of your manor that it becomes a thousand voices. You are so small, Draco. Such a small wizard. You will never find love."

I wiped my tears on my sleeve.

"I will not be made a fool."

I dropped my wand, and the quill fell silent. I snatched the howler up and folded it savagely.

I turned and left, leaving my cloak on the floor. I needed to get to the owlery before I changed my mind.

...

After such an outburst, one would think that I would have gotten any love for Draco out of my head for good. Yet however petty a relationship it may have seemed, it had simply gone on for too long and I had gotten too lost in it. Every single thing that I saw or did reminded me of him. The bad times, and the good...

I was walking slowly down the 7th floor corridor, slowly running my fingertips over the rough walls of the castle.

Yes, even Draco Malfoy is capable of presenting good times. Dancing in the stairwell, getting lost in the magnificent maze behind Malfoy Manor... And the night spent in the Room of Requirement, hushed and secret. We had been so close then. I still felt close.

My fingers halted as before me, a door appeared from the stone. The Room of Requirement. The place where all lost things go. I opened the door and stepped in.

At this point, I felt as though I had tried everything to get him back: love, hate...

In my mind I saw the unopened vial of Amortensia that I kept in my dresser drawer, and a wave of embarassment washed over me. I had almost even tried force. Thank heavens that my better judgement had gotten hold of me. What would Dumbledore have thought if he caught me using a love potion?

The door closed behind me, and I was engulfed by cluttered mess of objects. Furniture, books, clothes, and contraptions fluttered and whirred all around me.

I put my hands over my eyes. I was so mortified. Now that students were returning from their holiday, how was I supposed to look Draco in the eye?

Draco wasn't making a fool of me, I was making a fool of myself. I guess love can make you do some ridiculous things.

I went forth into the mess, another lost one among hundreds of others.

Every turn revealed another thing that reminded me of him. Although at first it caused my heart to stop and my stomach to churn, eventually each memory seemed to just wash over me, like a sad blue wave, and with a deep, languid sigh I would let it be pulled back out to sea.

I took another odd turn around a stack of tables. There was an old cabinet standing there, and imagine the shock that ensued when the door opened and Draco Malfoy stepped out.

I shrieked and stumbled backwards, accidentally knocking over an old Wizard Chess set and sending pieces cascading in every direction.

"Y-you..." I stammered, unable to form a word. All I could do was look at him, at the shock on his face, at the way his piercing eyes were wild with panic. He was so beautiful, for a coward.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded, his expression suddenly turning angry, "Are you following me now? I told you- it's over. Stay away from me!"

My mouth gaped, trying to say something- anything, but as I fumbled for words Draco took out his wand.

"Stay away from me if you know what's good for you!" he bellowed, pointing his wand directly at my face.

"I- I didn't know!" I squeaked, but as soon as the words were out tears seemed to gush forth like water from a dam. I was too afraid to even wipe them away, I just stood there, frozen, letting them fall.

Draco lowered his wand. The rage in him seemed to have passed, to be replaced with that same, nauseating fear. It changed all of his features. He was no longer Draco.

"What's happening to you?" I whispered.

He turned away quickly, and put his wand back in his pocket.

"You have no idea what I am capable of." he said as he began to walk away, "Don't come here anymore."

And he left me there, alone in the hidden room, surrounded by chess pieces in the presence of no one but the lost and my grief.

...

The hours trickled into days, and they into weeks, and somehow they became months before long. I had managed to push most of the memories of Draco out of my mind, and those that I couldn't forget I managed to distract myself from in the only way I knew how: academics.

The parchment that held my essay curled all the way to the floor, and my sleeve was black with smudged ink. I almost didn't hear Sarah sit down across the table from me. She coughed loudly to get my attention.

"Oh, hello." I greeted, snapping my head up from my work.

I remember that I noticed how much Sarah had changed since we began school together. Of course her blonde hair had gone a bit more dusty, she had grown a few inches, and her face was more full, but it went deeper than that. Her flighty giggles had become deep peals of laughter, the daydreams that lit up her eyes had dimmed into mere sparkles of hope and good humor. I guess, whether we wanted to face it or not, we had both gone and grown up. I'm not sure why, but it surprised me.

Her face, which was usually crinkled up into a cheeky grin, was surprisingly serious, and I was pulled out of my daydream.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

She shifted on her chair uncomfortably, before unleashing an awkward slew of words:

"Well, I'm not sure if you'd care to hear this, -In fact, I'm not sure if it's even true- but I guess Lulu Satchelbucket told me that she heard Ron Weasley tell Hermione Granger that Malfoy was in a fight with Harry Potter. I guess he got roughed up quite a bit, he is in the hospital wing."

My eyes widened, and my quill stopped moving. My heart immediately began to pound in my chest, but I did not know how to react to it. Part of me wanted to drop it all and run up to the hospital, but the logic in me objected.

"Is he alright?" I asked.

"How should I know? He's alive if that's what you mean." she said, rolling her eyes.

"Anyways, I'm off to charms. I'll see you at supper." Sarah said before scampering off down the hall.

I was left alone once again, this time waging a battle with myself. I physically needed to know if Draco was alright. On the other hand, if he saw me, and I was forced to remember how he hated me, it very well might kill me.

I shook my head and slowly rolled up the parchment.

I had to see him.

Quickly, and nervously, I slipped out into the corridor and up the stairs. Of all the exams and challenges I've ever faced, I don't think I had ever been so scared as then. Not even when I was being chased by a werewolf when I was 13 years old. Not even when Dumbledore was sacked. I was scared out of my wits over this little... What was it that Sarah always called him? A weasel? No... Oh. A ferret.

I arrived at the hospital wing, and entered as quietly as possible. Most of the beds were empty, save two right beside the door. One was taken by a first year, who looked so ill he was positively green. The other was taken by Draco, who was so pale he almost blended in with the sheets.

"He lost a lot of blood." whispered Madame Pomfrey behind me. She startled me so badly that I just about jumped out of my skin.

I caught my breath and replied, "Will he be alright?"

"Yes, he will be fine. But be sure not to wake him." She said before hustling away.

"I wouldn't dream of it." I whispered.

I turned back to look at him. Like Sarah, like myself, he seemed changed. Perhaps he had grown up as well.

If this is how Draco is meant to be, I vowed to have nothing to do with it.

I turned and left as silently as I came.


	7. Desk Flowers

The endless flow of time has often been compared to a swiftly moving river. Everyone bobs along in the current, living out their lives as well as they can knowing that they can never go back to the river's mouth, but must be tossed rigourously onwards until they come to the end of their journey, leaking back into the unending tides of the universe. If ever my river was it's own path, it certainly isn't anymore. If ever Jill and I had separate paths, they certainly aren't anymore.

Fate has a funny way of doing that. In our case, the glue which now holds us inseparable was tragedy. I know that in the years to come, when I look back on that horrid night, and all of the terror and the grief and loss, I will not ever be entirely sure if I am looking at a memory of my own, or one of hers.

It was Lulu who woke me up that night. She shook my shoulders sharply and whispered: "Wake up! I think something bad has happened!"

...

_There were footsteps all around me. I will always remember the dream I was having that night- I was being tossed in a torrential lighting storm. The peals of thunder seemed to be all around me, but as I opened my eyes I realized that I had fallen asleep in the common room, my parchment all around me. All of the students were pouring out of the dormitories, clambering about nervously. _

_Something had to be wrong. _

_I felt a pang in my heart, and I ran towards the door myself. I would feel better once I knew what was going on._

_I would feel better when I knew where Sarah was._

_..._

I had never seen the castle so alive. It was like looking into a beehive or an anthill- just swarms of nighties and robes and whispers of fear.

"There's been a duel!" Someone whispered.

"I heard a death eater broke into school grounds." One whispered back.

"From the looks of it, someone might be dead." A taller stranger added, nodding at the quickly thickening crowd of students huddled around the courtyard.

My heart dropped into my stomach.

I had to find Jill.

...

_I couldn't see what everyone was looking at. I couldn't figure out what everyone was talking about. I felt so small just then, like I was blind and deaf and lost in a sea of people who could not be bothered to help me. That is what scared me the most, I think. I knew something was wrong, and that is scary enough. However, to not know what it is that you are dreading, it is almost like torture._

_I took out my wand, and began pushing my way through the crowd._

_"Excuse me! Please, stand aside!"_

_Eventually my courtesies gave way to elbowing and clawing, but I had to get there. I had to make sure it was not my best friend lying beyond the huddled shapes or terrified people. I had to find her. _

_Finally, I saw professor McGonnagal's tartan robes appear before me. She was so stiff, and so bereft. It struck me then. It was like the breath was being sucked from my lungs. My life was going to change._

_I pushed my way beside her, finally breaking through into the knowing._

_It was Dumbledore._

_Dumbledore was dead._

_..._

Betrayal has a very odd taste to it. A bit like bile, a bit like blood; And all of it is bitter.

I was standing in the entrance hall, at the door leading to the dungeons. It looked the same as it always did. It was shadowy, damp, and smelled stale. I used to love all of those things, they used to represent something safe. A burrow of sorts.

It's truly amazing how something can change so much so quickly.

I inhaled slowly. I had not been eating much these past few days, and sleep was hard to come by. The anxiety that had suddenly sprung up in my stomach had made me a touch lightheaded.

But, I had to go down there. If I did not face it now, I would grow afraid of it. I would become a coward. And Merlin knows the dungeons have seen their fair share of those.

I began walking down the steps. The echoes themselves seemed sad. They were so solitary, like mine were the only feet that would ever be venturing this way again. Indeed, even the torches that lined the stairwell were dim. It was as if my burrow had become a tomb.

The dampness began to chill me, and the shivers set my teeth on edge. As I stood before the door to Snape's old office, I began to wonder if I was becoming a ghost. A more attractive Myrtle with a sense of humor twice as inappropriate as Peeves.

That would go over well.

I kept my arms crossed stiffly, almost defensively, and opened the heavy door with an angst fueled kick. The door obliged stiffly, as if it did not want to encourage my entrance.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was in.

It was like an optical illusion, it was like a confundus charm. Everything looked so familiar, but I had never knew it. I had sat in that chair before, and felt the safest I had ever been. Only now do I see that I had never been safe. I had spoken with a man I thought was my friend, only to see now that I had never known him at all. It was as if my friend the potion's master had never existed. I had been chatting with a ghost, I had defended a murderer.

The confusion led to madness, and the madness led to rage. The walls began to swim about me, grinning wickedly like a goblin. I began to question whether or not the past few days had even happened. What if it had been just a terrible nightmare? What if I had run into a boggart who had gone amok?

But the office became more and more nightmarish, and I knew in my heart that it was all too true. I had been played a fool. I had never had a friend in Severus Snape.

With a rush of anger, I grabbed my wand from my robes. I flicked it with such hate, it became almost like a knife, and with each flourish I sent papers to shreds. Vials threw themselves off of the shelves in a suicidal leap to their doom. Ingredients flew threw the air like confetti, and the cauldron hit the floor so loudly that the whole castle must have vibrated.

Turning to the desk, I sent it crashing into the wall behind it. The wood splintered. The impact caused the drawers to pop open, like the sparks from the bad end of a Blast-Ended Skrewt. From the top most drawer, a shower of brown petals spewed forth like a delicate rain. They landed lightly among the splintered wood and shards of glass.

I walked towards them, my shoes crunching on the debris. Kneeling, I picked one up to get a closer look.

It was a daisy. An old, withered secret desk flower.

They were all there. Every single one that I had ever left precociously over his parchment. He had saved them all, in the top most drawer.

My heart broke, and I cried.


	8. Eventus Pestis Pestis

I knelt on the cold stone floor of the dormitory. It was empty; the entire student body was at the funeral. I was not going. I could watch the whole thing from here in the Ravenclaw tower, but I was not going to. The longer I avoided it, the longer I could pretend that he was still alive.

My hand tightened around the old wrist watch I had modified long, long ago. The minute hand read _Dumbledore_, and it was lazily spinning, never coming to rest. Even in his passing, a part of him was antsy. I put it back in my pocket; I could not look at it, but I could not part with it either. I did not him to see what I was about to do.

It is amazing, what hatred can do to a person. It can turn tender hearts to stone, turn glances into daggers and make the sweetest tongues forked and poisonous. I was so aware of it percolating inside of me, and yet I did not care. The more I steeped in my anger, the more I could ignore my grief. The more I steeped in my hatred, the further it drove me to the edge.

I opened the old book in front of me, filched from the most remote shelf of the restricted section. I was calling upon old magic. Dark magic. A curse.

In one bowl, I deposited the banes of the villain:

Atropa, for his poisonous thoughts.

Nettles, for all of the pain he has caused.

Unicorn blood, for the unforgivable sins he has committed.

I drew the runes with a firm hand. I was so sure, so deliberate. I would make him pay for everything.

Taking the frame from my bed side table, I removed the photo and held it over the bowl. All that was left to do was set his image aflame in it's banes, and he would be cursed.

It was the _Eventus Pestis Pestis_; the Curse of the Pariah. Draco Malfoy would be exiled in the hearts of all who knew him. He would be doomed to live a life as bleak and lonesome as the one he had wrought around me.

To those who had known him here, he would be deemed a traitor. He was given so much- he who had so much already- and threw it all away.

To those who had corrupted him: the death eaters and those consumed by darkness, he would be deemed a coward. He had not carried out his assignment, yet left all the damage just the same. Coming to think of it, my curse would not be so potent after all; he had cursed himself well enough as it was.

I held my wand to his stupid, smirking face. It was odd to see his image, flirting and winking. I almost did not believe I had ever loved him. It seemed so far away now, years and years ago even. And now I felt nothing.

Tears sprang to my eyes, as if to prove myself wrong, for the thousandth time.

I felt so much. Everything hurt. I was confused, and alone... and I needed to talk to Dumbledore.

Oh, Albus. What would he think of me right now? What kind of advice could he have lent me?

Suddenly, an idea came to me. It was so brilliant that it almost surprised me, as this had not been a good year for me in terms of brilliance.

I tossed the picture aside, and ran from the dormitory as fast as my feet could carry me. The stairs disappeared beneath me as if I was flying over them, and if I had run into anyone in the halls I am sure that I would have breezed through them like a ghost. I could hear my heart beating in my ears, It was muffled and pained like the ticking of my broken watch.

I finally reached Dumbledore's office. Well, what used to be his. As I clambered through the entrance and burst through the doors, I was painfully aware of how empty of Albus it was.

All of the peculiar instruments had disappeared. The desk was bare, and the perch whereupon Fawkes used to sit had been taken away.

I looked wildly around the walls, searching the portraits of headmasters past for a familiar face. There were none.

I sat upon the empty desk, defeated. As I did, a frame that was leaning against the side fell with a clatter to the stone floor. It contained a blank canvas, empty and silent. There was a monogram along the bottom frame, it read Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.

The portrait was empty. Just like the office, the school, and my heart.

I cried then for my lost mentor. I cried like I had never before.


End file.
